Hot Cops and Confused Canadians
by cactusitude
Summary: Matthew Williams, dental student, witnesses a... "terrible" crime, and goes to a cop for help - not realising that the cop is actually a hot cop outfit wearing male stripper named Francis. Hilarity, cluelessness, and blatant attempts at seduction ensue.


**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not my creation. I don't believe all gay men are shy Canadians, fabulous French men, or well dressed men criticizing Lindsay Lohan. Enjoy the fic.**

"Ohohoho, I am a gorgeous creature!" crowed Francis Bonnefoy as he struck poses in front of the window of a clothing store. He was clad in a parody of a policeman's uniform – ass hugging black hot pants that exposed his shaved legs, a short sleeved black shirt with police insignia, a police hat, aviator sunglasses and thigh high leather boots. In short, a "hot cop" outfit.

Yes, Francis was a stripper. And a damned good one at that.

He wasn't a stripper because he was being blackmailed by an evil mob boss, or he needed money to pay his sick Grandma's hospital bills, or any other lame fan fiction reason. He was a stripper because he could dance well, was handy with a fireman's pole, and found it an excellent way to pick up chicks… or guys. Mostly guys.

While most of his stripper coworkers – including Feliks the Polish school-girl/boy, Ivan the huge, hairy Russian, and his gorgeous, utterly insane Hungarian boss Elizaveta - would change after work to go about their... _slightly _normal lives (strippers do have normal lives you know, they're just sexier than normal peoples), Francis preferred to wear his home, finding it an excellent way to pick up chicks… or men. Mostly men.

The man that Francis was interested in picking up at that moment was a grumpy, thick eyebrowed British man named Arthur, who Francis had met on the metro. It had been a romantic meeting, surely a sign of great things to come.

"Will you stop grinding on that pole, you stupid bastard? Other people need to hold onto it as well, and they don't need your filthy crotch germs all over it."

Ah, yes. Truly significant. Francis was hoping on running into Arthur on the way home, which was why he was currently checking out his ass for roundness and attractiveness in the window.

* * *

Meanwhile, Matthew Williams was walking home from a lecture ("You'll just feel a tickle: How to lie about the painfulness of procedures") at his dental hygiene college to the apartment he shared with his brother, Alfred Jones. Matt was studying to be a dental assistant. At first he had aimed to be an actual dentist but found it too exciting and intense for him.

Matt hadn't decided to live with Al of his own accord. Al had simply showed up at his front door one day, toting a Superman backpack, an Optimus Prime toy ("Action figure, Mattie! It's an action figure!) that had been too big to fit in his bag, and an empty McDonalds bag he had intended to use as a peace offering (unfortunately, he'd eaten all the cheeseburgers). Al had casually taken up residence on his fold out couch, simply because "I wanted to explore exotic lands… and not pay money for an apartment…. plus I owe some people money."

Since Al was 17 and Matt was 15 the two had lived separately after their parents divorced. Mattie and his French Canadian mother moved back to Canada where Matt had taken his mother's maiden name, while Al stayed in America with his father. Since Matt had moved to Montreal for dental school he had scarcely heard from Al. That was, till he showed up on his doorstep out of the blue. Since that day nearly a year ago, Al had been eating Matt's food, hogging Matt's TV and stumbling in late, smelling of smoke and baby oil. Matt found this understandably frustrating, particularly when angry strangers, mistaking him for his brother, accosted him on the street and demanded money that Al owed them. Despite this, there were some benefits to living with Al. For instance… Al… sometimes… took him places. Usually seedy pubs. And he was always willing to go to a hockey game with Matt, although he usually ruined it by screaming insults at players whose performance he wasn't impressed with and getting both of them kicked out.

What really worried Matt about Al were his frequent visits to local strip clubs. Al would head out late with a wad of usually American dollars – he never had quite gotten the hang of Canadian money – and come back hours later, drunk and cheerful, full of stories about the strippers he had met and clubs he'd gotten kicked out of.

Matt had gone and on a whim checked out one a couple of Al's favourite places. Not going in, of course. He would never do _that._ It was just a casual investigation; to see where his big brother was wasting his cash he got from working various odd jobs (which often seemed to be not quite legal and result in police involvement). Matt had been startled to notice that the people entering the clubs were a mixture of excited women, and well dressed men criticizing Lindsay Lohan. Very odd.

Despite his limited street savvy, Matt came to the conclusion that the bars Al loved so much were gay strip clubs. Matt had often listened with mixtures of horror and fascination to Al's bragging about his various female conquests… yet he had never actually come across Al with a woman, and he knew Al wouldn't be considerate enough to take any women he picked up to a hotel rather than to the foldout couch in the living room.

Very odd indeed.

His brothers apparent homosexual tendencies aside, Matt was thinking pleasant thoughts of the prospect of a TV hockey game that night, mixed with generous amounts of beer and maple bacon. Al would probably be out somewhere, and he'd have his tiny apartment to himself. The thought put a skip in Matt's step and a smile on his face.

But Matt's shiny, happy thoughts quickly came to an end as he heard a panicked, British sounding yell of "STOP! THIEF! COME BACK HERE WITH MY PURSE- I MEAN, BRIEFCASE!"

Matt's eyes went wide as he saw a small, thick eyebrowed boy in a rather effeminate sailor suit dash by him, yelling "COME AND GET IT, OLD MAN!"

The boy was followed in quick succession by an even thicker eyebrowed man, clad in an olive green sweater vest and a pair of brown leather oxfords. The man was obviously not used to chasing after purs- briefcase snatchers, as he was breathing hard and his hair was sticking up all over the place.

"YOU COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE BUGGER! THAT HAS IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS IN IT!"

"WHAT, LIKE PORNO MAGS?"

"WHY, YOU…. SHUT UP! STOP RUNNING!"

Matt knew he had to do something. He couldn't just stand by while an innocent, bizarre looking man had his bag stolen. It had been a few years since he had played high school hockey, but he was still in relatively good shape. He started dashing after the thick eyebrowed man, quickly overtaking him and catching up to the boy.

"Hey! What do you want?" exclaimed the boy, spotting Matt behind him.

"Uh, you know, you should really give that man his bag back…"

"No! It's mine now! I see that guy every day, and he pisses me off, with his stupid eyebrows and his stupid girly jumpers!"

"And that's reason to steal his briefcase?"

"Of course it is!"

In an impressive feat of upper body strength (especially for a kid who couldn't be more than 8), the boy suddenly swung the briefcase back and up, hitting Matt squarely in the stomach.

"Oof!" Matt fell to the ground, as he felt everything he had ate that day threatening to come up in a mapley rush. He lay and watched helplessly as the boy ran off, closely followed by the man, who didn't even stop to check on Matt, so intent was he on getting back his briefcase which was most certainly NOT filled with porno mags.

After gingerly checking that his spleen was still intact, Matt slowly stood up. He was winded and out of breath, but unhurt… despite his pride being a little bruised. Who would have known such a tiny kid would be so strong?

It occurred to Matt that the best way to deal with this problem would be to go to the police. They'd know what to do. With this in mind he limped off in search of a cop.

* * *

Francis was strutting down the street feeling pretty damn good about himself. His ass certainly was very round and luscious, and his hair was falling in particularly shiny, soft blond waves that day. But wasn't he always gorgeous and perfect? He laughed, loudly, freaking out a group of nearby Japanese tourists.

Today would be the perfect day to make his move on his British soon-to-be lover. He'd start with something subtle, like a lap dance on the metro. That would be sure to get his attention. Then, he could progress to a romantic date in the park. Some champagne, fresh strawberries, sweet, strawberry flavoured kissing… AND THEN, THE ORAL SEX.

Oh, his groin ached just thinking about it.

France was so lost in his rather disturbing plans that he failed to notice the cute blonde running toward him till he exclaimed "Officer! I need your help!"

Francis blinked at the blonde in surpise. He was, indeed, a very cute blonde. So cute, that any thoughts of grumpy English men completely dissolved in his head, replaced by one new thought: Hell-o!

He was similar looking to Francis himself, so naturally he was gorgeous, but had shorter, paler blonde hair, a taller, leaner build, and huge, lovely eyes so blue they were almost violet. Shame about the glasses and frumpy outfit, but those would barely be noticeable when he was naked… Ohohoho.

Lowering his voice to a husky, seductive pitch Francis said "Mmmm, mon ami, I'd be happy to help you with anything… anything at _all._"

Matt blinked at him, shook his head and said "I just witnessed a robbery! Over on the next street, a boy stole a mans purs- briefcase!"

"…Eh?"

"Quick! You need to hurry over there now! You might still be able to catch him!"

"…Oh, the cop uniform, yes."

"And then I'll need to make a report! That briefcase had important documents in it… I think."

Francis stared in wide eyed surprise at blonde. His mouth even gaped open a little, but he shut it in a hurry. Gaping like an idiot was not _tres chic. _

This young man obviously believed he was a police officer. Francis wondered if he was kidding around, but looking into the wide, panicked eyes he found it hard to believe. It didn't even seem to have crossed his mind that most cops don't wear thigh high boots. What a shockingly naïve young man. No street smarts at all. Just the sort of person who could easily be taken advantage of by any unscrupulous pervert… well, someone like himself actually.

Francis wondered what to do. On the one hand, the closest he had ever come to being a police outfit was this outfit he wore. It would make sense to send this striking young man to a real police officer, who could help him out about the no doubt terrible crime he had witnessed.

On the other hand… If he sent him away, he might never see him again. He could hardly play the dashing savior when he was just some stripper mistaken for a cop. Wouldn't it be better to pretend to be a real cop?

Plus, cops got to wear those sexy outfits, and carry handcuffs around. And do strip searches.

Mind made up, Francis stood up straight, and said in an official sounding manner "Yes, of course. I'll take you to the station straight away."

"Shouldn't you go back to where the crime was committed first? To see if you can still catch the thief?"

Francis laughed nervously. "Oh, no, he's probably long gone. We should go straight to the cops… I mean station. I have 2 friends… I mean colleagues… Who can really help us out…"

* * *

"OI! RODDY!"

"I asked you not to call me that!"

"Well maybe if you weren't so lame and girly I'd have listened! Kesesese!"

"Can you not make that bizarre hissing noise? Why can't you laugh like a normal person? And wear your uniform properly!"

"My laugh is fucking awesome, ok? Chicks dig it! Heh. Chicks. You see what I did there?"

"…Right. Speaking of which, can you not carry that thing around in your hair? It's unhygienic. I gave in on you keeping it in YOUR office, but only if it stayed in its cage."

"Gillbird can't stay cooped up like that! It's cruel! What kind of loser are you? He likes the fresh air. And me. Right Gilbird?"

"Cheep!"

"…You named that thing after you?"

"Of course I did! Gilbird is an extension of me. So, like me, he's friggin awesome! Right Gilbird?"

"Cheep cheep!"

Antonio Carriedo chose that moment to walk into the office where Gilbert Bielschmidt and Roderich Edelstein were arguing.

"Hey you guys!" he said cheerfully, his tan face radiating joyful ignorance. "Francis is here! He has someone with him."

"Francis is here? FUCK YEAH!"

"...Oh, my god..."

Gilbert dashed out of the office with a joyful Antonio. Roderich pushed his glasses up his nose, sighed, and walked reluctantly after them.

Only to stop short when he saw Francis.

"..What- what on earth are you wearing?"

"Woah Francis! Looking awesome! Those shorts are a little tight though man, might want to think about a larger size." said Gilbert, squinting at Francis' worryingly tight hot pants.

"Francis! It's so nice to see you again! Who's this person you have with you?" Antonio dashed up to Matthew and gave him a friendly hug, an action which seemed to disconcert him.

"Gilbert, Antonio, my friends, this is Matthieu."

"Matthew." said Matt.

"Matthieu, yes."

"Well hey Mattie!" exclaimed Gilbert. "Nice to meet cha! You're cute! But what are you doing with Francis? Did he pick you up at the strip-"

"Ohohoh! Gilbert, how about you stop right there. I need to talk to you two, about a terrible crime this young man has witnessed. How about you come into your office with me."

"It's MY office!" cried Roderich, who was turning an interesting shade of pink. "And Francis, for goodness sake, can you stop showing up constantly and bringing your conquests with you-"

"OHOHOH. Oh, Roderich, you amuse me so, with your jokes. Perhaps you should STOP MAKING THEM AND SHUT YOUR MOUTH. Hmm... Don't I hear your girlfriend calling? Maybe you should leave."

"Elizabeta? Where is she? ...Hey, wait!"

Gillbert, Antonio and Francis dissapeared into Roderich's office, slamming the door behind them. Roderich and Matt were left standing awkwardly in the police station lobby.

"So... uhhh... I like your glasses... You like hockey?"

"Not particuarly."

"...Oh." Awkward silence reigned.

The trio came out after several minutes of (mostly) silence behind the office door, aside from the occasional yell or "Kesesese!" Antonio and Gilbert both had very knowing looks on their faces, troubling Roderich.

"Sooo... Mattie." said Gilbert. "Francis tells me you witnessed a terrible crime."

"Well, I don't know if it was terrible exactly... I mean, he was a little kid..."

"No, no, you can never take these things too seriously. What we want you to do, is to make a report, describing exactly what happened. My colleagues, Antonio and Francis, will help me investigate."

"...I'm sorry? Francis, your COLLEAGUE?" exclaimed Roderich. "What on earth are you trying to pull?"

"RODDY, how about you go make this poor victim some coffee?"

"Make him some coffee? Have you taken leave of your senses? I'm your boss!"

"Haha, well it's always good to share the duties isn't it? How about you GO TO THE KITCHEN and let us get down to business?"

Roderich gave Gilbert a death glare that would frighten a puppy, mouthed "I'm watching you" and stormed off to the kitchen.

"Ah, he loves me. Now, Mattie, how about you come to MY office and we'll put together a report?"

* * *

An hour later Matt was left thinking that these were the oddest cops he had ever met. Well, not that he'd met any cops beside them, but you get the point.

They'd gotten the report down, but not without a lot of laughter at what seemed to be some slightly disturbing inside jokes, playful banter, equally playful bickering, and some very unprofessional play-fighting. Also, Antonio kept starting to say things, usually about Francis or Matt and how they'd met, and was shushed violently. Very odd.

Still, Matt was glad he'd met Francis when he did, and was able to help the police hopefully get to the bottom of the bag snatching. He said as much to Francis.

"Oh, _mon ami,_ the pleasure was _all mine._ Trust me."

"Well, it looks like you can go home now Matt." said Antonio brightly. "We'll call you if we hear anything.

"Wait! Antonio, don't you think Matt's in danger? As a witness?"

"Well, not really Francis. From the sounds of things the thief was just some harmless kid. I'm sure Matt will be fine-"

"_Antonio,_ don't you think Matt should _stay at my house_ till we know it's safe?"

"...No?"

Gilbert, in a rare display of reading the atmosphere, caught on to Francis' meaning. "Francis is right, Antonio. For all we know the assailant could be more dangerous than he appeared! Remember, he did knock poor Mattie down. He should stay with Francis for a while, for protection."

Matt blinked at Francis and blushed. "Uh- ummm. It's ok. I have my own apartment. And I kinda need to keep an eye on my brother."

"Oh, you have a brother! You're so lucky! I always wanted a brother, but my boyfriend has an adorable baby bro, so it's almost like the same thing. How old is he?"

"...Right. Uh, he's 22."

"...Oh. Well, shouldn't he be fine on his own then?"

"...I seriously doubt it."

Francis saw that his chance at getting close to his gorgeous blonde angel was getting away, and decided to act fast.

"Well then, I'm sure my dear colleague Roderich will be able to take care of him while you're gone. Keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't get into any trouble…"

"WHO SAYS I WILL?" yelled Roderich from the next room.

"WE DO!" yelled back Gilbert, who was always happy to help a friend get laid. "You know, me and Antonio could hang out with him for ya, if you want. My brother could come along! I'm sure he'd love to come drinking with us."

"I SERIOUSLY DOUBT THAT!" yelled Roderich once more.

"SHUT UP!" yelled Gilbert back, smacking on the wall. As Roderich made spluttering sounds of outrage Gilbert asked Matt "Whaddaya say?"

"Oh… well. I guess that makes sense. I'll go pack a bag." said Matt, despite still having some serious misgivings about letting his brother hang around Antonio and Gilbert too long. But maybe he really was in danger, and it would be rude to refuse Francis' generous offer.

"HELL YES! " yelled Francis, before giving a polite cough and saying "Ah, I mean, that is great news, that you're willing to let me keep you safe… Come with me, I'll escort you to your apartment."

As Antonio and Gilbert waved goodbye enthusiastically (and Roderich stood looking thoroughly unimpressed) from the police station door, Matt couldn't help feeling that something wasn't entirely right here, but decided to ignore the feeling. Who knew, maybe Francis would have bacon at his apartment? Matt could pack his maple syrup.

* * *

**I'm so happy to be finally posting this! I came up with the idea a couple of months ago but only just got round to it. Come to think of it, I have no clue what was wrong with my head when this idea popped into it, but I'm glad I finally got round to typing it up. Thank you KiraSakura and Loveless - Heartless, who both helped me out by giving me ideas for character roles and such. *coughisuckcough***

**In my head, Matt likes bacon (he's a hockey playing lumberjack mountie dammit, the man needs calories), and weird combinations of food. I don't actually believe he's as naïve as he is in this fic, but hey, he's a 20 year old dental student here, not a hundreds of years old country.**

**I hope I got it across, but in this fic Gilbert and Antonio are (for real) cops, Roderich is their boss, and his ex fiancé/taking-it-slow girlfriend is Elizabeta, who happens to own the strip club Francis works at. A fine profession for a policeman's girlfriend. The main pairing will be Francis/Matt, but who knows, there might be a side pairing?**

**I wanted Francis to be not totally screwing with Matt in this fic, which is why he takes Matt to actual police. Gilbert has Roderich completely beaten, mostly through a combination of annoying and exhausting him. Note: I'm sure the Montreal police aren't as bad as these guys are.**

**Anyway, I really hope you like the fic! I have it all planned out, down to the bonus chapters, but it may take me a while to write it as I am lazy. Ahem. It should be around 2 or 3 chapters. Sorry for Francis' very small amount of bad French. Let's just pretend they're all speaking French anyway, as it is Montreal.  
**

**Please review this if you liked it! Or didn't like it! I'd like some feedback.**

**Peace out!**


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